


All My Nights Taste Like Gold

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dreamsharing, Duty, Loyalty, M/M, Trans Gladiolus Amicitia, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-04-06 00:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19051597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: Gladio knew when Noct was born, because he was his Shield, the only person who could follow Noct into his dreams and protect him there. Noct never questioned his presence, and Gladio liked to think that he found it comforting. Most days, their dreams were shallow and silly. But as Noct grew, the dream-world became more real, and the threats posed there more dangerous.Despite the bonds of loyalty, duty, and destiny making them King and Shield, Gladio and Noct's choices over the years shape the men they become.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catsinouterspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsinouterspace/gifts).



> Title from "Waking Up Slow" by Gabrielle Aplin:  
>  _Oh, all my nights taste like gold_  
>  _Yeah, when I'm with you iIt's like everything glows_  
>  _And all my days we can lay low_  
>  _Yeah, when we're waking up, we're waking up slow_
> 
> Because I'm an old-school nerd, there's a fanmix for this, here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRzef2XzKSy5RU1oMqQ0lk8d7kW0ZGoFu

Gladio knew when Noct was born, because he was his Shield, the only person who could follow Noct into his dreams and protect him there. Noct never questioned his presence, and Gladio liked to think that he found it comforting. Most days, their dreams were shallow and silly: eating endless bowls of ice cream, or walking through fields of flowers. But as Noct grew, the dream-world became more real, and the threats posed there more dangerous. Carbuncle gave Noct missions, with monsters along the way, and sometimes they took many nights of questing to complete.

King Regis and Gladio's dad discussed this in quiet voices; not precisely worried, but concerned. Most kings did see visions in their dreams, and their Shields attended them and kept them safe in that other world. But not so much, so often.

Noct's mother was dying, his dad told him one day, and perhaps that was why Noct spent half his life in deep sleep. It was true that when she did die, Carbuncle curled up with Noct and wrapped him in a warm red glow of comfort while Gladio stood guard, night after night after night. King Regis, Gladio told his father in confused anger, should be taking care of Noct, too. Noct needed more anchors in the real world. To remind him to come back.

A few months later, shortly after Gladio started school, a new child appeared in the Citadel. His name was Ignis and Gladio resented him from the moment they first shook hands. Ignis would eat his meals with Noct, have playtimes and lessons with him – spend every moment waiting on him, it seemed.

When Gladio complained to his dad – because _Ignis_ wasn't Noct's Shield, and Noct wasn't _his_ the way he was Gladio's – he was told Ignis had had a hard life. His parents died, and he and his brothers and sisters had been sent to live with different relatives across Lucis. He'd probably never see them again.

"He didn't have to come _here_ , though," Gladio said, not willing to let his resentment go. "He could've gone anywhere."

"You're not required to be friends with him," Dad told him, voice heavy so Gladio knew he wouldn't tolerate any protest. "You don't have to like him. But you're going to work with him a long time if the King eventually appoints him the Prince's advisor. Find a way to live with him."

"Yes, sir," Gladio said, still sullen.

Just a few weeks later, he found out his mother was going to have a baby, and felt betrayed by everyone except Noct. He might spend time with Ignis during the day, but the night-time adventures were still theirs, Carbuncle waiting for them in the land of dreams.

*

Iris was three, and Gladio had to spend time away from Noct and his duties to take care of her, because his mother was in the hospital dying. He liked Iris okay – she was actually turning into a real person now, which was cool, but her mood swung quickly from happily entertained to wailing for mom.

Gladio bit his tongue until it was sore, to keep from snapping that mom wouldn't ever be coming home again.

Visiting hours were in the late afternoon, and he woke Iris up from her nap and dressed her in her rompers, gave her fruit and crackers for a snack, and waited for Dad to swing by after he cut out of work early. The King, he'd said to Jared one night, insisted that he be with his family.

But it was Gladio who got stuck at home, he'd wanted to argue, except he was trying to be good. Not make trouble.

On the drive over, Dad mentioned that Prince Noctis had been taken on a day trip out to the countryside, to see a wetland restoration project. Lots of fish, which Noct liked, to make up for the fact that he wasn't permitted to attend the zoo trip his school classmates had gone on.

"It's not safe for him to wander around," Dad said, when Gladio muttered that it wasn't fair. "Not for him, and not for the other kids who might get hurt if – you know. Something happened."

Gladio got the sense that there'd been a bigger argument; Noct had probably been angry, maybe even threw a tantrum like Iris did, with yelling and tears. He didn't act much like a Prince, in Gladio's opinion. People were too soft on him.

Dad went on to say he'd spoken with the King, and they'd all been invited to have lunch together on the weekend. Apparently, the King thought Noct missed Gladio, for some reason. Gladio didn't miss him at all.

They had a special tag that let them park near the wing where his mother had a room, and Gladio filled with impatience and dread equally as they got out of the car. He needed to go upstairs _right away_ and see for himself that she was okay, but... he knew she'd be faking it for his sake. That she was trying to keep him from knowing how sick she really was.

He had Iris' busy-bag slung over his shoulder and her small, sticky hand in his as they navigated reception and headed for the staircase. And then –

 

– suddenly he was in the dream world. Without Noct, as far as he could see from a cursory and panicked survey of his surroundings. From the way his heart hammered at his ribs, he _knew_ something terrible was happening to Noct, and he needed to find him immediately because _he wasn't there to protect him_ like he'd vowed he would.

He pushed all his frentic thoughts out of his head and ignored his worry and fear, instead summoning anger up like a wellspring and using it to make a weapon, a sword that was a real and satisfying weight in its scabbard.

The landscape here was unfamiliar, but when he had his breathing forced ruthlessly under control and looked inward, he found the golden thread of his connection to Noct. He started following it, keeping one hand on his sword as he ran.

The way forward seemed to go on for days and hours and weeks – time was fuzzy, but he knew this wasn't normal, this unending forest that occasionally opened to fields and grassy slopes but then closed around him again, leading downhill, as if he'd appeared at the summit of some vast mountain. Down and down he went, and the dread in him mounted as the wilderness around him thinned, fading into a gray fog, like a cheap eraser had smudged everything out of form but not – yet – out of existence.

He found Noct even further beyond that, lying on the ground on the ragged rim of a great gray void, with Carbuncle watching over him, licking his face as if that was all the succor he was allowed to offer. Noct was pale – or rather, translucent – and Gladio wasn't sure he could pick him up. He was terrified his hands would go right through him. But Noct warmed and solidified under his hands, so Gladio touched him all over, bringing him back, and when he was able to gather Noct up in his arms he did so. He knew how to get back to the land of the waking from here. No problem.

Carbuncle jumped up to sit weightlessly on his shoulder. In this place, the scarlet glow from his gemstone horn was tamped to a weak pink flicker.

Noct's eyes opened when Gladio began the climb back up into the woods, but his stare was blank, and he didn't seem aware of anything. Gladio was breathing harshly – even in a dream, it was possible to get tired, or hurt, or worse – but he talked to Noct when he could. Said how worried he was, and how Noct was safe now, and that they needed to get back because Noct's dad would be waiting for him.

Except as soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to recall them. If someone had been able to hurt Noct this badly, who knew if Regis was still alive?

Noct's phone dinged in his pocket, and Gladio wished once again that Carbuncle could just _talk_ like a normal person and not like... whatever he was. An avatar of the Crystal or of the gods. Gladio had to stop walking and sit down to dig the phone out and read the message. He settled gingerly on a fallen log, keeping Noct carefully safe in his arms, his head against Gladio's shoulder like he'd just dropped off to sleep. Noct's phone was in his right pocket, and Gladio swiped it on.

 _They only hurt Noct, not his father_ , Carbuncle said, which was not all that reassuring. Who was 'they'? Noct would have been traveling with no less than two guards; why hadn't they kept him safe? The phone dinged again. _You must bring him back, quickly. I'm holding back the darkness. But there's an awful lot of darkness coming._

Gladio didn't like the sound of that, either. As if sensing his fear, the woods around him creaked in the wind, dead leaves rustling, twigs cracking as if something – or things – were prowling just out of sight. Animals, perhaps. Or daemons.

He pushed to his feet, adjusting Noct's weight in his arms, and resumed walking steadily upwards. He was prepared for the first creature that decided to press its luck and attack; he killed it swiftly and without any regret. Anything that wanted Noct had to go up against him, and he was an impenetrable Shield.

Still, he was beyond weary when he finally reached the massive gate that soared skyward at the summit, and his sword was heavy as he slid it free of the scabbard, the ground shaking as the gate guardian strode forward.

"You did well, Shield of the King," the stone-armored figure said, looking down at him. "And you will be rewarded." It held out one hand, where something shimmered into existence. "A shield for a Shield, perhaps, conferring strength."

Gladio shook his head. "No. Thank you. I just need to get the Prince home."

The guardian seemed to stretch taller, and the air pressed down on Gladio like a storm building. "Wisdom, then." And now it was offering him a book, thick and leather-bound. The sight of it sang to him, and he thirsted for it; would have reached out despite himself, if not for fear of dropping Noct.

"Sorry," Gladio repeated. "No, thank you."

The figure's hand emptied, and then closed into a fist. "I can make you your father's true son... and all that entails."

Gladio's heart tore, sharp and bright, the sparks of pain igniting his temper and sending renewed energy to his limbs. He stood straighter and stared the figure down. He might not be strong or wise, he might be awakening to awareness that his body was already changing in ways that felt fundamentally, horrifically wrong, but he wasn't _weak_. He wouldn't give into such half-assed temptations, and he especially would never let Noct down.

"No," he said a third time, polite through clenched teeth. "But thanks."

"Well, you're no fun at all," the guardian said. The tone was light and playful, but Gladio heard fury underneath and shuddered, feeling like he'd been drenched in something unclean. The darkness, he thought, but then in the next second the figure was gone in a flash of red light and the gate swung open, so he walked through before anything else could happen.

On the other side he found himself standing in Noct's bedroom, watching King Regis hold Noct's hand like he never planned to let go. His face was gray and drawn, and his royal raiment was dirty – torn and bloodstained. Noct looked okay, the way he normally did when he was sleeping, but Gladio knew immediately that Noct wasn't in there.

He walked over and laid the Noct in his arms over the Noct on the bed. They slipped together in another flash of scarlet magic –

and in the next moment Gladio was waking in a hospital cot of his own, with his father holding his hand and his mother crying over him.

She died two weeks later.

He refused to speak to Noct at the funeral, frustrated that he couldn't even be angry at the kid, who was pale and listless, pushed by his father in a wheelchair. In Gladio's arms, Iris was a tense weight. Dad had always joked that he'd wanted to marry a woman he could look up to; their mother had towered over not just him but everyone, a strong, reassuring presence, like a pillar. She had a framed picture on her desk of her flexing and the late Queen – Noct's mother – hanging from one arm like a child climbing a tree, feet kicking. They'd both been laughing.

And now both of them were dead, and their husbands could only see their likeness in the faces of their children. Noct was the spitting image of Queen Aulea, and Regis always looked at him with a kind of wistfulness, as if her loss was a barrier between them. Gladio hoped that didn't happen with his Dad. Iris was still too little, and even Gladio still hungered for parental love and approval, though he'd never admit it.

The wind was cold at the cemetery, and Iris was heavy. Gladio asked if she wanted to be put down so she could run, and she shook her head, arms tightening around his neck so he could barely breathe.

*

Gladio was angry for the next five years or so; like the ocean, it rose and receded, but there was never a day anger didn't batter his shores. Anger at Noct for not being fully healed even by the Oracle, for not dreaming as brilliantly as he had as a child and thus not calling on Gladio to act as his Shield. Anger at his mother for dying, and at Iris for becoming clingy. And at his dad for distancing himself. Anger with Ignis, who kept trying to pull Noct out of illness and depression by playing nursemaid and tutor and cook, as if Noct would be enticed back by coddling, when he just needed to man up and do his duty. Like it or lump it.

Ignis started training for the Crownsguard when he entered high school, and Gladio hated him for both of those things – for getting the education he never would, and for trying to usurp Gladio's rightful place as well.

Ignis confronted him about it one day, when he'd just failed a hand-to-hand trial and had an ice pack pressed gingerly to his bloodied nose. From the look of the damage, he'd have a black eye tomorrow. Gladio didn't intend to gloat, but he did anyway.

"When are you going to turn that formidable temper on the person who rightfully deserves it?" Ignis asked, all sweet reasonable tone and venomous intent.

Gladio saw red. He didn't recall lunging at Ignis, but he found himself slammed into the wall face-first and pinned there, arm twisted high up his back, with Ignis leaning on him with his full weight. His hands were still cold from the ice, and his voice was stuffed up, from his banged-up nose.

"I _meant_ ," Ignis said right in Gladio's ear, impatient and put out, "the man who sent the Marilith to kill Noct, and had Fenestala Manor attacked, and Luna detained, who as far as I know is the Emperor of Niflheim and no friend of yours, either."

Ignis didn't swear, but he had a way of spitting out his words that felt like profanity.

Gladio sagged. "Oh." Ignis hadn't meant _him_ , then. Ignis didn't think _he_ deserved anger. Even though Gladio thought he did, the sick perpetual presence of failure haunting him – his own, his father's. Would he be good enough, when Noct truly needed him? "Sorry."

Ignis stepped back, brushing his hands, and then picked up the ice pack that had been dropped in the scuffle. He wiped it on his trousers absently, as if he had perfect faith that Gladio wouldn't try and hit him again. Gladio didn't deserve that trust, but he was pathetically grateful for it.

He reached for the Armiger and pulled out a potion. "Drink this," he said, handing it over. Ignis tried to refuse, but Gladio cut him off. "It's one of Noct's practice ones, not good enough for anyone in real trouble. It'll work on those bruises, probably, though you might get hiccups. Or throw up."

Ignis' eyes narrowed like he'd been challenged. "Take notes for posterity, then," he said, and gamely swallowed down the whole bottle. Little sparkles of magic, like ghost crystals, twinkled around him, and his face was suddenly normal again – even his spots were gone, along with the swelling and green-black marks.

His hair, though, kept glowing until he finally started batting away the glowing sparks with an expression of mild alarm. But by then all the color had been leached from his hair, leaving it an almost translucent blond, like dandelion fluff.

"Well. Shit," Gladio said, staring. And then added hastily as Ignis' expression became alarmed, "Sorry, man."

"What?" Ignis asked, and when Gladio stayed silent, repeated with urgency: " _What?_ "

Gladio ended up loaning Ignis his hoodie to hide in as they slipped out to Ignis' hair place, Ignis muttering in annoyance the whole walk there. Fortunately, there was a stylist available to deal with the emergency – which Ignis blamed totally on Gladio, even though he'd been _trying_ to help.

Ignis said Gladio didn't need to hang around, but he did anyway, trying to get Iggy to smile by showing him really dumb hairstyles in the fashion magazines while the stylist did his best to restore Ignis to his natural mousy brown. He also, now that he wasn't riled up, tried to figure out why he was so angry with... himself, if he was being honest.

He kind of thought it came down to choices which he'd never had. Everything that he was and would be was assigned to him at birth, and he was trapped. Not a bad trap, not one he wanted to escape, not really; he might even have walked into the trap willingly if the decision had been up to him. Not even Ignis was _stuck_ in the same way he was. Ignis could leave, if he wanted. The gods had nothing to do with his employment.

Really, it was just Noct, Gladio, and Luna who were fucked over, this generation's King and Shield and Oracle, predestined to fulfill roles that their ancestors had been assigned centuries ago. It wasn't really what Gladio would call a blessing; more like a curse.

Not that he wanted to quit, of course.

He looked at Ignis, whose head was covered over in a cap now, to help the dye set. He'd heard people say they thought Ignis was gay, because of how he dressed and did his hair, and walked and talked, but none of that gossip had made Ignis change in the least. Whatever he was, he'd obviously chosen to be himself and fuck anyone who talked about him behind his back.

The stylist poked at Ignis' hair, and then said it'd be another twenty minutes or so. Gladio swallowed, and then asked if he could get his hair buzzed off while they waited.

"Not on my account, please," Ignis said. His muttering had bled out all his annoyance with Gladio, and they were back to being friendly with each other. At any rate, Ignis had said he bore Gladio no ill will when the stylist had stared in shock at the ruin of his hair.

"Nah," Gladio said. "It's too long." He'd started wearing it short when he joined the Crownsguard, and preferred it that way. "Gets in my eyes. I mean, I could do it at home, but..."

"You'd better have me do it," the stylist told Ignis pointedly. "I don't think your boyfriend can be trusted with hair."

Ignis' cheeks went pink but he didn't say anything, so Gladio didn't either.

But he thought about being someone's boyfriend the whole walk back to the Citadel. He liked the idea; really, _really_ liked it, like a seed of knowledge that had been planted years ago had finally burst into flower. And it was something that made fuck-all difference to his destiny; a choice he was free to make.

"We should be friends," he told Ignis, when they were indoors and had to part ways.

Ignis frowned. "I thought we were."

Gladio made a face and ran a hand over his head. He liked how soft his hair was when it was this short. "Less shitty friends, then. I mean, on my part. I'll try not to be a jerk."

Ignis held out his hand to shake, like that counted for intimacy in his book, and Gladio held on and yanked him into a full Amicitia-style hug, right down to the hearty back slapping. Ignis didn't have any idea what to do with his own hands; Gladio would have to train him.

"You can keep the hoodie," he said when he finally let Ignis go, and gave into temptation, ruffling Ignis' brown-again hair so it broke out of salon-perfection and looked like bedhead instead. "It's a good look on you."

*

Whenever Gladio looked in a mirror he thought about the gate guardian's offer, back when he was saving Noct. He wondered how it had known. He didn't like that the only other sentient-seeming being he'd encountered in Noct's dreams had been able to read his mind as well as Carbuncle had, and unearth a temptation he hadn't even known he had.

He was dead certain the gate guardian hadn't been making that offer in good faith, and it would have proved to be a trap, or an illusion – bait, to catch him like one of Noct's fish. Any strength or wisdom he accepted as his due reward would have been tainted, he felt deep in his bones; it would have corrupted him, like a slow scourge growing in secret. Plus, it wasn't like he couldn't achieve those things on his own. He had no shortage of opportunities for training, and he was disciplined.

About becoming a son his father could be proud of, though... Like a magic trick where cards that had been one suit when the magician laid them face down became another when flipped over, Gladio now saw his own memories flipping into clarity, building into a new history that he felt eager to grow from. There wasn't any shame in being a daughter, but... he was angry about its constrictions, he supposed wryly. Angry about changes to his body that felt wrong, angry that it mattered, angry that no matter how short his hair was or how flat his chest was from good genes and expensive sports bras or how tall he grew, his force of will alone was not going to be all that he needed.

He vacillated between being certain it wasn't a big deal how he got recognized as (people got it wrong half the time, anyway, and he was the same guy either way), and a burning impatience to just _tell_ everyone so he could get right up in their faces and _correct_ them.

And then still more anger with himself for backing down every time, when he tried to imagine telling the King, or Noct, or his dad, or Cor. That, he thought, made him a liar, and an unworthy Shield. No amount of strength or wisdom could overcome a dishonest nature.

Eventually he worked up the never to go talk to Ignis, inviting himself over one day after work. Ignis had a small one-bedroom apartment in a building reserved for government workers, just four subway stops away from the Citadel. It wasn't fancy, with bland furniture and white walls, but Gladio respected the space. He knew that Ignis hadn't moved out of his uncle's place so much as had been kicked out when he came out to his uncle that past summer.

Ignis poured them both tall glasses of ice tea from the refrigerator and curled up on the sofa, knees under his chin and his arms loose around his legs. To anyone else, he'd probably have looked relaxed, but Gladio had seen Ignis' uncle smack him more than once for bad posture. Putting his bare feet on the sofa – his _own_ sofa, in his _own_ living room – was Iggy being a badass rebel. In his own way.

Gladio had too much energy to sit, so he paced between the entranceway and the kitchenette while he spilled out everything he was thinking, all the realizations he'd had and what they might mean. Ignis made vague go-on noises while sipping at his tea, but then he'd ask a question that made Gladio have to really examine himself, his assumptions and beliefs. It was like having his inner mechanisms taken apart and inspected, before being gently put back together.

Ignis didn't seem terribly surprised – because Gladio'd been working at friendship with him, he maybe got along better with Ignis now than anyone else, weirdly enough, so maybe Ignis knew him. Ignis certainly treated him with warmth and respect, showing that he cared.

By the time they stopped talking, more or less, the sky outside Ignis' balcony windows was dark, all the light coming from the neon signs below and the sinuous arc of the expressway.

"Stay for dinner?" Ignis asked, but not as if it was really a question. He was already stretching and getting up to go pull things out of his refrigerator.

Nothing here was as luxurious as at Noct's, of course, but Ignis could work miracles at a stove. Gladio'd be stupid to turn down a meal, not to mention he liked the company.

Gladio made Ignis talk about himself over dinner – it was only polite – and insisted on doing the dishes and putting them away on the shelf. Ignis had four of everything, which made Gladio ask idly if Prompto had been over.

"Warming up to him, are you?" Ignis asked, pouring them both coffee with a dash of something alcoholic.

"Iris likes him," Gladio said with a shrug. "She's a decent judge of character. We all go running sometimes, hit up the nature trails out by the wall. He takes pictures and Noct doesn't whine as much as usual. You should come with," he added, giving Ignis a sly grin.

"Much as I do enjoy time spent with both you and Noctis," Ignis said, raising his mug toward Gladio like a salute, "I have come to appreciate what precious few moments of solitude I have." He gave Gladio a measuring look. "Apropos of our discussion of momentous choices made in the face of destiny, it's my belief that Prompto is Noctis' choice. A friend he chose himself, not appointed by the King, and one he's capable of losing should he cause offense or injure. I believe it's a healthy development, and relates to Noct wanting to experience independent living."

"Yeah. That's going real well."

Ignis deflated that sarcasm with a cutting glance. "He's determined to be his own person. As are we all." He took a sip of coffee, eyes falling shut for a moment in appreciation, before snapping open and focusing on Gladio intensely. "I think you would benefit from talking to others who've made the same journey before you. I know people who would be willing, to assist I think." He didn't tell Gladio who they were, which Gladio appreciated. Ignis was discreet. Still, he didn't want him to have to call in favors. "But do remember," Ignis added, tapping his fingertips against the table for emphasis, "you never need to do anything for other people. Including me. This has nothing to do with the dictates of the Crown. This is yours. Your choices."

Apparently a tipsy Ignis was an embarrassingly earnest Ignis. "It doesn't matter that much," Gladio said, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it."

"You're important," Ignis said, accompanying the roll of his eyes with sharp airquotes. " _You_ matter."

Hah. Gladio had told Ignis that, a year or so back. He was touched that Ignis remembered, but he wasn't going to get all emotional about it, so that meant he had to be an ass. "Learned from the best, I see."

Ignis laughed at him and told him to finish his drink, they both had work in the morning.

*

"Look, Iggy, stubble," Gladio said, letting himself into the reception area of Noct's office during what was supposed to be lunch hour. Unsurprisingly, Ignis was filling out reports and spreadsheets, with a half-eaten rice ball and a flask of tea abandoned on the side of his desk, while Noct's door was suspiciously closed. Gladio could vaguely feel him napping – not dreaming – but shook off the irritation that provoked.

Ignis looked up and gave his chin an unimpressed stare. "Be still my heart."

Eh, whatever. Someday it would be a beard.

"You're so funny." Gladio grinned and lowered his center of gravity to prowl slowly and deliberately across the room. After six months of seeing a specialist healer and taking aligning potions he was satisfactorily gaining both muscle and height; he used to be taller than Iggy, but now he towered over him. Ignis had been there to quietly celebrate Gladio's progress every step of the way, but lately he'd taken to suggesting that Gladio could stop growing any day now.

"Don't touch me," Ignis warned. He slid out of his chair and around the far side of the desk. "This report is due at five."

"You need to destress."

Ignis narrowed his eyes. "I'll hurt you," he warned.

Gladio grinned. "No, you won't," he said –

– and pounced, closing the space between them lightning-fast. No one touched Ignis, ever. He was prickly and prone to making credible death threats. Gladio blamed his asshole uncle; Amicitias were different. They believed in skinship and hugs and the positive benefits of wrestling your best friend to the floor and tickling him so his heels beat against the floor as he laughed.

He loved seeing Iggy let go and really cackle, even if a moment later he was neatly thrown onto his back with his wrists pinned to the floor.

"I let you win," Gladio said, content. He'd given Ignis pretty good stubble burn on one cheek; he was gloating a bit about that. Secretly.

Ignis dropped to his side, appropriating Gladio's biceps as a pillow and crossing his legs primly at the knees.

Gladio took a deep breath. "I'm going to tell my dad."

Ignis hummed, like he'd anticipated that. "He's a good person."

Huh. "He know about you?"

That earned another, noncommital hum, suggesting Gladio hadn't been in the loop as much as he'd thought. "He knows a great deal. I imagine being in his position he must."

"I looked up to him my whole life," Gladio blurted out like a confession, a dam breaking. "I wanted to be just like him, serve the King and country, be _proud_. But he's not – " stop, swallow down the acid taste of betrayal " – he's a good person, but he doesn't have the same bond with King Regis that Noct and I have. He's not _connected_." He didn't spill out his darkest fear, that his father was a false Shield, and that he'd avoided going to the Proving Grounds like he was supposed to because his shame would be exposed, and spill over on his family. But Ignis doubtless was capable of understanding that.

At any rate, Ignis kept silent for a long moment, his hand patting at Gladio's hip in what Gladio assumed was meant to be comfort. Iggy sucked at comfort. It was kind of endearing how awkward he could be, especially when he kept trying.

"It is my belief," Ignis started, quite slowly, as if each word was being scrutinized before being spoken, "that the Crystal – or the Ring – grants each King or Queen the Shield they need the most. King Regis required the services of a skilled politician to solidify his rule in the city. We are, to be blunt, under long siege, but there has never been rioting in the streets. As I said – your father is a good man. Honest, and honorable." His hand stilled. "If who you are is an indication of the demands that will be made of Noct during his rule, then frankly, I fear that future. In all my studies, I have never heard of a Shield who has been summoned to serve in the Beyond as you were."

Trust Iggy not to mince words. "So you're saying Dad's normal, and I'm the outlier."

"I only wish I could do more." Ignis' hand went back to its vague rhythm.

Gladio was startled into a laugh, feeling lighter now that he'd got that off his chest. He trusted Ignis' insight. "Yeah, get on that. Slacker."

They must have made more of a ruckus than Gladio thought, because Noct threw his door open, looking as if he'd just woken up. There were lines on his cheek, likely from paperwork.

"What the hell?" Noct said, stopping short in the doorway and rubbing at one eye with his knuckles. "Are you guys _making out_ on the floor?"

Ignis sighed as if grievously disappointed, but didn't make any move to get up. He was probably exhausted, what with his tendency to overwork and not do things like eat proper meals. "Yes, obviously. As you can tell by the way we are both fully dressed and not touching each other in workplace-inappropriate ways."

"You're such a weirdo, Specs," Noct said. He walked over to drop down on Gladio's other arm, staring up at the ceiling with a frown. "Okay. I don't get it."

"Close your eyes for a moment," Ignis urged, and Gladio felt a twinge of misgiving. "Focus on your breathing."

He was prepared for Noct to conk out – the kid was a pro at slacking off – but not for Ignis to join him. Gladio let them have their five minutes and then sat up, not allowing himself to feel any regret about dragging them back into the land of the conscious, where reports had to be written and the prince had a training session to attend.

After an hour trying to smash Noct like a gnat and the damn kid warping away, always at the last second, Gladio was dripping with sweat and satisfaction. He'd been testing himself as much as Noct, and he had noticeably greater stamina and control; his anger still drove him in battle, but it was deeper and focused now. When he came out of the shower room he found Noct dressed already and sitting cross-legged on the bench, poking at something on his phone.

"Got you a drink," Noct said, not even looking up, just holding a can out in Gladio's direction. "Take a break. I'm trying to stay out of Ignis' hair."

"Instead of helping him," Gladio asked, keeping his voice flat so Noct'd know just how unimpressed he was with that decision. "Or wait, don't tell me, is this something he's helping you with?"

Noct turned his phone off and leaned back, looking sideways up at Gladio. "Is it time for my daily _why you suck_ lecture? Bring it." He sounded... not even that annoyed. More resigned.

So maybe Gladio was being an asshole who didn't have a clue what he was talking about. "Nah, if anyone's sucking it's me." Hell, even Ignis had thought Noct could use more sleep. "What're you guys working on?" He popped the tab on the energy drink and took a long, slow sip. "That refugee thing, right?"

"That refugee thing," Noct echoed hollowly. "I have been to every single office in the Ministry of Immigration over the past two weeks, and I know they think I'm... playing games. Just there because of who my father is. But I could be fifty years old and a, a plumber or something and it would still be fucking obvious that politicians are twisting the law to deny refugees access to social services. I mean... most of the Glaive are from Galahd, and they're not even eligible to _vote_. Fuck that."

Gladio started to get suspicious. "So Ignis is editing all the curse words out of your report, huh."

Noct made airquotes. "Editing." He shrugged. "The Council is going try and neuter all of my proposals, but Ignis claims to have the savvy to rig it so the big stuff gets shot down but little things slide through. Like refugee kids being eligible for vaccinations, cause overcrowding means an epidemic would spread that much faster. It's _stupid_." He sighed. "Ignis says it's refreshing to see me interested in anything government-adjacent."

Gladio bet Ignis was over the moon. And maybe Noct had earned a lunchtime nap. "I can agree with that."

Noct blew out a noisy breath and leaned back against the wall. "So are you and Ignis dating? He's been looking a lot at you lately."

"Cause I'm awesome, surprised you haven't noticed," Gladio said automatically. He completely deserved the half-assed punch to the arm Noct gave him. "I've been going through some stuff. Talking it over with him."

Noct nodded, biting his lower lip as he thought that over. "Good stuff?"

Gladio meant to say something flip to brush Noct off, but instead asked, "What do I look like in your dreams?" And then, realizing how that sounded, added, "The magic ones. Not normal dreams. Forget it."

"Like my Shield," Noct said, eyes narrowing. "Like a fortress or a dragon, kind of, except I know you're a person. You just have a _feeling_. Stubborn and angry and safe."

"Am I a guy or a girl, though?" Gladio asked despite himself.

Noct made the same noise he used to make when Ignis asked if his homework was done. "Does it matter? Like – to the magic. To me."

Gladio figured that made some kind of sense. "Nah."

Noct sighed and slumped sideways, so he was plastered up against Gladio's side, prodding uncomfortably until Gladio huffed and raised his arm to drop across Noct's shoulders. "That the stuff you've been talking to Ignis about?" Gladio shrugged. "He give you a good answer?"

"I figured the answer out on my own," Gladio said. "It's what to do about it where I get stuck."

"You could tell me, for a start," Noct said, petulant.

So Gladio did. Noct asked questions but not bad ones, and Gladio tried not to give crappy answers. Noct said he'd tell his father, if Gladio wanted, and yeah, maybe that was something he'd take him up on. But then Noct announced that if Gladio was going to have a beard, he'd grow one, too, and the conversation ended in bickering like always. It sucked that now the kid could warp his way out of a headlock.

*

He told his father next. Ancestors were brought into the discussion, and Iris, and voices might have been raised a few times but at least no one cried. The next morning over breakfast, his dad looked at him and shook his head, saying, "I wish your mother was here, so you could tell her. She always said you kids were her garden, and she couldn't wait to see how you bloomed." He picked up his fork, and then put it down again, like what he had to say was more important than eggs. "You're so much like her."

"Not that much," Gladio muttered, feeling like he'd been emotionally dumped back in junior high. Last night Dad had asked if he was planning on having surgery before he got the Amicitia tattoos, which was the most excruciating conversation they'd had since the one a few years back when he'd told Gladio he'd pay him good money if he explained periods and tampons to Iris. Gladio had refused then and he'd changed the subject last night; he'd do what he wanted with his own body, thanks, and besides, he'd already talked with Teci at the tattoo parlor.

"The parts that matter," Dad said, finally digging into his food like the conversation was over. And Gladio figured it was; his eyes stung, and he refused to bawl into his yogurt.

Iris was almost as bad at waking up as Noct was, but she'd been looking back and forth between them with increasing distress. Gladio stretched out a leg under the table and kicked her, just a bit, to get her attention.

"Nothing's wrong," he told her. "We're not fighting."

"You want to move out again," Iris said, her voice heavy with accusation. "You don't want to live with me."

Gladio winced, but Dad just laughed and reached over to give Iris a sidehug and kiss the top of her head. "It's something totally different, Moogie. You're still going to enjoy the pleasure of your brother's charming company on a daily basis."

"Watch it, old man," Gladio said automatically. "I know where you live." He wondered if his dad had stood in front of the mirror the way he did when he was practicing speeches and diplomats' foreign names, repeating and repeating until the words flowed naturally.

Iris took a bite of a toast square. "Is that how come you gave me all your clothes?"

Dad raised an eyebrow at Gladio, who shrugged. Seriously: when was the last time anyone had seen him in a skirt? "Kind of. It was all too small, anyway." And then added, in a weird sticky surge of family feeling, "Anything else you want? Not my weapons," he clarified, when Iris' eyes got a distinctly greedy gleam. "You bother Dad for those."

"Betrayed," Dad said, and let Iris go with one more squeeze, returning to his breakfast like it was any other day. Nothing momentous had happened; business as usual.

When Gladio came home on the day his tattoo was finally finished, while he was still kind of high, his dad presented him with a plain box, not gift-wrapped or anything. A bit dingy; old. Gladio opened it and pulled out a strand of wooden beads strung on a chain, with a carved sun-symbol pendant.

"So you'll always have something of your mother's," Dad said. "Wherever you go."

*

The decision to drive down to Altissia for Noct's arranged marriage to Lady Lunafreya was sudden, and Gladio barely had enough time for preparations. He needed to ready their camping gear, meet with Cor to get intel on what'd be waiting for them outside the wall, and push Prompto to finish his Crownsguard training. He didn't envy Ignis, who had to wrangle Noct into fittings for his wedding suit and all kinds of other fancy outfits, while simultaneously handing off all the work he did on behalf of Noct.

After training one day Gladio teased Prompto about how nice it must be to not have to worry about crap like that.

Prompto flicked his sweaty towel in Gladio's direction, and Gladio grinned. He liked that the kid wasn't as intimidated by him now as he used to be. "You have _no clue_. I'm worried about _everything_. You and Iggy have, what, ten years experience each in bodyguarding and diplomacy, and you were born hobnobbing with aristocrats. I have nightmares about stepping on Lady Lunafreya's toes or eating my steak with the fish knife. Or getting told I don't belong. Which I don't. Mister isn't an impressive title like Prince or Shield or whatever Ignis is. What is Ignis, again?"

"Nothing wrong with Mister," Gladio argued, because he got pissed off when Prompto went on these jags of insecurity. "It means you're free to choose what you want to be, not be stuck in the family business because of tradition."

Prompto tipped his head back, giving Gladio a sharp look before shrugging his shoulders loose. "You wanted to be something besides Shield to the future King?"

Yeah, they were buddies now, but that wasn't a conversation he could finish off in a couple of pithy remarks. "Never thought about it. No point wanting what you'll never have." Gladio scraped his sweaty hair back with a hand, thought about showering, and realized suddenly what spending a week or so in tents with Prompto would mean. "Hey. Do you know I'm trans?"

Prompto blinked twice; to his credit, his gaze didn't drop to Gladio's chest. "Nope. Um." He looked like he was trying to gauge if this was some kind of social ritual Noct hadn't clued him in to. Or like he wondered if he was expected to come out in turn.

"Just letting you know, seeing as we'll be traveling together. If you're squeamish about potions and shit, I'll tell you when to look away."

"Are there people at the wedding who're going to be jerks to you?" Prompto blurted out.

Aww. Gladio half hoped someone did show their ass, so he could watch Prompto try and defend his honor. He bet it'd be adorable. "Nah, it's cool. All that matters to them is I'm his Shield."

"Gotcha." Prompto was never good at standing still; he'd started stretching out his legs while they talked, probably not even realizing he was doing it, and now he bounced idly on his toes. "I still don't really get what a Shield does."

That was the nervous stream of consciousness talking, but Gladio figured it was a good change of subject. Plus, Prompto should probably know about that as well.

"It means I've been psychically linked to Noct since he was born," Gladio said, as straightfaced as he could, only breaking into a grin when Prompto stopped stretching to boggle. "No. Seriously."

"Dude." Prompto threw his arms out, towel flapping, like a physical manifestation of his confusion.

"It's not as sexy as it sounds." Which was true. "Come on, get dressed, I'll tell you over coffee after."

Prompto waggled his eyebrows. Gladio hadn't realized until now just how stupid that looked in real life. "So – you're trying to pick me up?"

Gladio snorted. Dumbass. "No, _this_ is me picking you up." He grabbed Prompto and tossed him over his shoulder, ignoring both his snorting laughter and his ineffectually pinwheeling arms and legs.


	2. Chapter 2

And then Noct's apartment was all packed up and he moved out, and Prompto officially joined the Crownsguard, and Noct had a fancy black suit to wear when he said his vows to Lunafreya, who Gladio knew he loved, but... maybe not in a romantic way. At least Noct hadn't ever implied that. So it probably figured that Noct was in a bad mood the whole time preparations were being made – all those choices Ignis had been please to see him make, being subverted to his destiny. His farewells with his father were painful to watch, with the King trying to reach out and have a father-son moment while Noct brushed the sentiment off, impatient to be gone.

But once they were outside of Insomnia, camping out at havens, under the stars, Noct's dreams started to gradually take form again. The gray formless nothing developed pools of water, and then creeks and streams and rivers. Noct enjoyed fishing in his dreams, and tossed the smaller fish to Carbuncle, who ate them in quick snaps of his teeth.

Gladio mostly hung out – fishing a bit when he felt like it, or napping when he didn't – but his spirit was buoyed by the emergence of grass, wildflowers, even trees. He figured Noct really was looking forward to seeing Luna again, and that excitement, no matter how much Noct downplayed it when he was awake, was bringing new life to the other world. He knew Noct and Luna wrote letters to each other, but being in the same room would be reassuring, after so many years. Gladio sent Iris photos and memes from the roadtrip, but he still missed her dumb face, and it hadn't even been a month.

Some days, Noct even dreamed a sky, high and clear blue, shining with stars, the moon and sun slowly drifting overhead. Gladio was hopeful.

And then Insomnia fell and the gods were indifferent; all their families were dead save Iris and even the empty plains of Lucis started to fill with Imperials. The Empire was desperate for food, Gladio knew, but he was bitter that no one outside the wall had any qualms about selling to them. Didn't they realize that as soon as Lucis was considered safe that colonists from Niflheim would pour in and take over everything? – agriculture, industry, government, all of it.

But then again... everyone outside the wall had been thrown to the coeurls years ago. Gladio found it hard not to feel guilty, for how oblivious people in Insomnia had been. No wonder the Kingsglaive had been so angry; no big shock, really, that so many of them turned out to be traitors.

Gladio half wanted to ask Cor what his father had thought about pulling the wall back. Whether no one had thought about raising a Lucian army and actually fighting back against the insidious creep of Niflheim. Back in the day, he'd heard they used to send spies and agents to infiltrate Niflheim. Assassination wasn't honorable, sure, but maybe it would have been better than what Regis had done to his own people.

But Cor pissed him off, calling Noct his King and giving him a quest to pursue, but not sticking around to be any real help.

Not that Cor would have been able to do anything when Noct's headaches rang through Gladio like a bell, violent jolts into the dreamworld even during the daytime. It just figured that a god was behind messing with Noct like that, and also that not just his ancestors but the gods themselves demanded that Noct prove himself in battle, like some schoolyard showdown.

 _Bring it_ , Gladio thought, each time they went up against some deity straight out of Noct's favorite childhood picture book. _He's a lot stronger than you know._

In Noct's dreams now there were snow-capped mountains, wreathed in storm clouds, and some of them rumbled as if biding their time before erupting. Noct carried on fishing, regardless. There were a few dangerous creatures there now as well, but nothing Gladio couldn't handle. Yet.

He worried more and more, though, as they found the last of the ancestral weapons and forged pacts with Titan and Ramuh. With Lady Lunafreya's aid, Noct said they'd probably be able to gain Leviathan's aid as well. Shiva was dead; Ifrit, Ignis said, had been vanquished somewhere in Insomnia's millinery district, which made Gladio have to get up and stalk away. If Ignis was keeping secrets for the dead, he could damn well stop. Gladio had grown up in the shadow of his father's guilt over the bizarre infiltration of the crown city the year he was born: how their best defenses hadn't been enough, how the Crownsguard had been slaughtered and the city left exposed, and then... Niflheim retreated, the Six only knew why, to let Insomnia heal in shame.

Gladio refused to let that shame interfere with or overshadow his duty, but he burned with it anyway after being bested by Lunafreya's brother in battle.

He needed to be grounded, like a hunger, so as soon as they rolled into Caem – the safest place for the King to take refuge in Lucis, probably – he told Noct he had stuff he needed to do and headed out. The whole trip north to go meet up with Cor, he worried about facing his ancestors and their judgment, but as the trial of Gilgamesh progressed he realized that – not to be fat-headed, but – even Gligamesh was just a warm-up act. He accepted his and Cor's validation, but no one until now had ever faced any threat near as dangerous as what Gladio and his King had to face.

He was glad of that, of course, because otherwise the world would have been in dire peril many times over, but there wasn't that much he could learn here. The biggest lesson, he thought to himself, wincing at how cheesy it sounded, was that the faith he'd needed had been within him all along.

He didn't tell Cor that, or Noct. He didn't need to be laughed at. But he felt good enough about himself, even with his new scars, that he just chucked the tanktop that'd been sliced up in battle into the campfire. It was bloodstained and ragged, and he didn't like looking at it.

"Kind of a waste," Cor said, blowing on his noodles. "I thought Noct's advisor was in charge of sewing and stuff."

"He doesn't serve _me_ , I'm not the King," Gladio pointed out. Though he had stuffed his mangled sports bra into his bag, on the off-chance that Ignis could work miracles. "I'm his Shield. And I don't need to hide who I am."

"If you say so." Cor dug in with his chopsticks, getting a good mouthful of noodles and egg, and let the subject drop.

Gladio felt a bit weird when he regrouped with everyone in Lestallum. Once he was out of the damn safety suit, Prompto's eyes went saucer-round.

"Look at your ink," he blurted out. "That is _so cool_. Can I take pictures?"

Noct rolled his eyes. "Of Gladio's chest." He'd been trying to avoid looking at his scars, the old ones and the new ones, and not succeeding very well. Gladio would probably have to tell him what went down at the Proving Grounds, and just hope that his reasoning for going made some kind of sense to Noct.

"I don't mind," Gladio said. "Whatever."

Ignis reached into the armiger and pulled out a very familiar bottle, stripping his gloves off and opening the bottle top automatically before realizing he was likely overstepping the boundaries of their friendship by quite a lot. He gestured with his free hand, rather helplessly, towards Gladio.

"The sunlight isn't good for either your skin or the ink," he said, making a decent attempt to be dispassionate like one of those public service announcements on the radio. "If you plan on going around without a shirt, you really ought to use sunblock."

"And you're volunteering to slather it on, eh, Iggy?" That earned him a glare and a blush.

And then Ignis hit the awkwardness right back to Gladio's side of the court, raising his chin and smoothing his expression to pleasant but unreadable. "If you prefer the royal treatment, certainly."

Gladio let him dangle for a moment, and then stuck his hand out. "Nah, hand it over."

Ignis still watched, though, and gave a put-upon sigh when Gladio did a shitty job of covering his back, moving in to smear the gunk into a nice even layer of sun protection.

That night, as they were packing up their hotel room to head back down to Caem, where Cid had apparently got the royal yacht all fixed up, Noct made up rows and rows of potions and elemental grenades. No one said anything, not even Prompto, though that might have been because every time he looked like his curiosity was overpowering his common sense Ignis dragged him out shopping again. Right now, they were off procuring dinner.

"So I've been thinking," Noct said finally, turning in his chair so he could half-look at Gladio, who was inspecting all their weapons. If Noct was planning for war and not a wedding, well then. Better to be prepared.

"Had to happen sometime."

Noct wadded up one of the paper labels Ignis had peeled off the drink cans and flipped it underhand toward Gladio in the most lame-ass toss ever. It feel to the floor a whole meter away.

"You're going to run out of that medicine you take," Noct said. He didn't even try for nonchalant, but he did come across as earnest, the way he used to be as a kid.

"Not your problem," Gladio said. He'd been asking around here in Lestallum, but all the supplies that had used to come from Insomnia had mostly burned with Insomnia. Ignis had proven capable so far of finding medical clinics willing to trade for only mostly-extortionate prices, but he was coming to terms with the lingering knowledge that even those sources would dry up sooner rather than later. Which sucked, but well, nothing he could do.

"I'm good with magic now," Noct said, a bit defensively. Gladio doubted Ignis had ever confessed about the hair disaster, but there had been plenty of other magic-related screw ups, he was sure. "If you can give me just a little, an old bottle or something, I think I can help." He shrugged. "And if not me, then Luna."

Couldn't hurt. Probably. He'd make a cute blond if it didn't. Gladio dug out his current half-full bottle and got up to go hand it over. He didn't want to leave his fate up to Noct's crappy catching skills.

He deliberately didn't watch what Noct did. It wasn't that interesting, anyway, at least for someone who had no clue how any of that magic stuff worked. When he was done, Noct returned both the medicine bottle – now down to a quarter – and a proper glass flask that sparkled when he held it up to the sunlight, a rich honey-amber in color.

"I don't know for sure," Noct said, "but my intent was for that to work permanently." He shrugged, looking away. Which was good, because Gladio's feelings about that were... complicated. "Just hang on to it," Noct said. "You don't need to use it now, or ever, but it's an option. And who knows, it might be useless. Maybe have Luna check it out first."

"Thanks," Gladio said, sticking the flask in his bag to think about later. "I need to wrap my head around the idea."

"Whatever," Noct said. "I'm starving. Where's our dinner?" He had his phone out and was probably sending the same complaint to Ignis. Multitasking.

*

Gladio blamed what happened in Altissia on Noct. If he hadn't almost fucking died _again_ , Luna wouldn't have had to fly past Gladio in the dreamworld and yank Noct out of the deeps of death, only to drown, herself. If Noct hadn't lingered in the void between life and death, Ignis wouldn't have set himself on fire trying to save him.

And if _Gladio_ hadn't been the Shield he'd have been able to reach Noct faster in the real world because he wouldn't have kept passing out when he was summoned to the dreaming. Maybe he could have saved Ignis. Instead, Prompto had had to keep dragging Gladio's heavy ass and slapping him awake, while fighting off MTs and Imperial armor.

Gladio hadn't even been able to reach Noct during the aftermath of the whole fucked-up summoning ritual. Wild winds lashed the world beyond as well, torrents of rain falling in sheets, debris from some unseen wreckage crashing down around him and keeping him from making progress.

When they finally arrived back at the hotel, Prompto raced out immediately to go find a doctor. Gladio stripped Noct and Iggy naked, washing them clean and taking care of all the injuries he could see. He had felt Luna pouring her healing essence into Noct, but he was still limp and battered. Gladio didn't know what was going to happen to them when he wore the ring; he knew that far from healing King Regis, it has sucked life away from both King and Shield. He didn't know how many years they'd be required to lose to save Lucis; he didn't think there was any point in worrying, seeing as how they'd do what they had to do no matter the price.

He had no idea whether using curatives on Ignis' injuries would heal his eyes, but his skin had been charred to ash in places, and the burns were seeping liquid. Parts of the surface of his eyes – where the color had been – were starting to peel away. He told himself Iggy wouldn't mind and used the best potions Noct had prepared, back in Lestallum.

It wasn't enough.

The doctor said all they could do was wait: for Noct to wake up, and to see if Ignis could see.

Gladio didn't let himself sleep for two days. Ignis spiked the highest fever Gladio'd ever seen and they had to pin him down in a cold bath even though he fought like a daemon. Noct, on the other hand, was limp, utterly unresponsive. Gladio didn't _want_ to sleep, because he'd have to go pull Noct out again, and he was _furious_ with him. He'd been to the Proving Grounds; he was the best Shield he could possibly be – the Shield Noct had demanded be forged for him to wield when he faced his destiny.

A destiny Noct was running from, as far as Gladio could tell.

His anger was a huge thing, and when he finally did slip accidentally into sleep, it followed him.

He found Noct almost immediately, standing in a vast sea of flowers that had all been crushed into the dirt, like a herd of garulas had trampled them down.

"Luna's gone," Noct said. His voice sounded hollow and dull, like the heavy air was absorbing it. "I don't want to do this. I don't want people to die for me. I want everything to be safe and peaceful like it used to be. I don't want to be King. I want to stuff all the gods back into storybooks and just... live."

"Fuck what you want," Gladio yelled, trying to make himself heard over the weight of Noct's grief. Noct barely glanced at him, even when he got right up in his face. "Ignis wore the ring for you – it should have _been_ you. No one else can save the world."

"I know," Noct yelled back, and his eyes were made of hard crystal, red and glowing.

Gladio felt his anger release into the ground, leaving his body drained and weak. "I'm sorry about that," he said, quieter but Noct was still looking at him; Noct heard. "I am. You got dicked over. But you have to step up. I am so fucking sorry. No one else can do it for you. Iggy... ruined himself bad trying."

" _Oh_ ," Noct said. His eyes were blue again for a moment, and then he was gone.

Gladio watched the world around him darken, like a theater after the actors went home; a cold wind picked up, and he was both creeped out to be left here and annoyed. He crossed his arms and focused his will, summoning his anger back and using it to wake himself up.

He stayed angry for _weeks_.

Every time he thought he was almost done with rage he saw Ignis fall again, or Noct cling to the ring like it was a worrystone and not the key to summoning power great enough to defeat the darkness that was falling now, all over the world.

Turned out, though, he was wrong about that.

He felt the instant Noct put the ring on in Gralea; he _knew_ what would happen, he was as prepared as Noct was to accept the weight of their inheritance. Once the burden of the ring was taken up, both their lives would be considerably shorter.

He'd always figured it'd happen when they were both middle-aged; he'd kind of hoped that he'd live to see middle age. But the price was not too high, if the world was saved. He was prepared for sacrifice.

But not for the pain. He didn't scream, which was good – he didn't want Ignis to worry. But he was barely able to stumble along through the maze of corridors within Zegnautus Keep. Concentration was nearly impossible. To his shame, he allowed Ignis to take the lead and go up against the daemons and the rogue MTs that jumped out at them like crappy haunted house monsters, while Gladio gave fumbling support.

He tried to apologize to Ignis and was told there was no need.

At one point they stumbled into a canteen full of vending machines, and Ignis pulled two sturdy shopping bags out of a pocket and proceeded to buy potions until both bags were bulging. The normal person's armiger, he supposed.

"Breaking the budget?" Gladio managed to protest woozily. Ignis' answering laugh was borderline manic, and he insisted on Gladio taking as many potions as he needed to keep him on his feet.

"We needn't save for anything now," he said, almost giddy with bitterness. "The world's ending. All our resources must be devoted to finding Noct, then Prompto, then the crystal."

"Easy-peasy," Gladio agreed, and peeled himself off the wall that had been holding him upright. "I'll follow you." Ignis held out a potion in his direction wordlessly, and Gladio took it. Pride wasn't going to keep him alive. The wash of relief as the curative took effect was staggering. "Noct's using the ring."

"I assumed," Ignis said tersely. "He appears to be trying to exercise restraint – as he hasn't killed you with his efforts – but his control is lacking."

Gladio caught Ignis by the shoulder, giving him a squeeze which Ignis was probably too tense to even register. "I can carry a bag," he said. "Hand it over." When Ignis did, Gladio gave him a half-hug. "What's it like, using the ring?"

He thought for a moment Ignis would pretend he didn't know what Gladio was talking about, but then Ignis sighed and leaned into the embrace. Just for a moment. "Like being used by the power of the gods." He gave a huff of unamused laughter. "I'll do it again if needed."

"Don't," Gladio said, the word coming out sharply, like he was trying to avert a curse. "Noct can handle it, I've been telling you. This is what we were born to do."

"I have the greatest faith in the both of you," Ignis said, and shrugged off Gladio's arm, ready to keep pressing onward.

It turned out that in the end, though, not even the gods' power wielded by the True King was enough to defeat Ardyn. Gladio had hoped that the crystal being so close would – what did he know – recharge the ring or superpower it in some way, but instead he felt his connection to Noct fade to nothing and then disappear, as if he'd never existed at all.

Ardyn gloated and turned out to be immortal, and Noct was trapped and unreachable, in the realm of the gods.

For ten long years.

*

Gladio only stayed sane for that decade because he felt Noct's presence every time he slept. It was a comfort but mostly a frustration. Noct was never nearby; never close enough to communicate, to ask if he was okay or to tell him that they were fine and waiting for him. That the potion he'd created for Gladio had worked like a dream, and Gladio was thankful (and growing a beard); that Ignis was even more formidable in battle and in protecting his ragged little family of friends; that they loved and took care of Prompto in Noct's stead, not letting him hide because of the shame of his birth but instead pointing out, over and over, that all the choices he'd made to become who he was now were honorable and good ones. That they had nightmares, in the long darkness, but Noct didn't need to worry about that, they'd survive. They'd wait as long as Noct needed.

But one night Gladio's dream changed abruptly. He could see Noct striding ahead of him, ring blazing on his left hand and a sword in his right. Noct's hair was long and blew behind him as he stalked toward the horizon, and Gladio broke into a run after him, terrified of what would happen if he lost sight of Noct again, if even for a moment.

He woke with a shock, soaked in sweat, chest heaving, legs pumping for a few futile paces more that merely kicked the quilt off the bed. Ignis, who'd been sleeping next to him, sat up in alarm. They all had bad dreams, and both Ignis and Prompto had learned to turn the light on first, before reaching for Gladio to ground him. It never improved anything if Gladio came swinging at either of them before he was fully awake.

"Noct," Gladio managed to cough out, in the circle of Ignis' arms. His throat was raw, as if he'd been shouting in vain, calling after his King. He could still see him like an afterimage: back straight, head up, royal posture replacing the slouch of the boy he'd watched grow up. He intercepted one of Ignis' ineffectually-patting hands and pressed it over his still-hammering heart like a balm. "We have to _go_."

"Where?" Ignis asked. Always practical, calm, level-headed, someone Gladio could lean on. He used his other hand to rub Gladio's spine briskly for a moment before letting go and slipping out of bed.

Gladio watched him find the table and his clothes and start to dress. He was still self-conscious after all these years, and kept his back to Gladio, who felt an ache settle low in his stomach. He and Ignis and Prompto had been dancing around the idea of being in a relationship – or something – for a while now, but it was easier to sleep with each other every now and then than to try and make any kind of commitment while Noct was still gone; that would feel like too much of a betrayal. No one talked about it, but they were keeping a place open for Noct, for when he was with them again.

Gladio wondered if he'd regret not making more of what they had while they could; the odds were just as bad as they'd always been. He didn't expect them to survive the final battle.

But no matter how close they'd become over a decade, Noct's absence always left an empty space between them.

"He's going to Insomnia," Gladio answered. He could feel the dream dissolving, but enough of it remained for him to be certain.

"East," Ignis agreed with a nod. He turned around, looking towards Gladio while doing up his buttons. "Hammerhead? Or do we need to collect him?"

He sounded as if he was more than willing to chase Noct down, and Gladio grinned, rolling out of bed himself. He loved Ignis' ferocious yet practical certainty. It gave him strength and direction.

"There'll be time to figure it out once we're on the road."

Ignis straightened his collar, and then trailed his fingers along the tabletop until he found his phone and visor. The latter he slid on, hiding his eyes, as he called Prompto to tell him to get to Hammerhead.

"Hot date?" Gladio heard Prompto ask, teasing and flirtatious, and Ignis answered _no_ reflexively, too sharp.

"Gladio informs me Noctis is returning."

"Whoa." Prompto blew out a harsh breath, making Ignis jerk the phone away from his ear with a grimace. "Huh. Okay. You want me to intercept him if he passes this way?"

"If you'd be so kind."

"Gotcha. You guys travel safe."

"You'll see us tomorrow," Ignis promised. No one could guarantee that, of course, but the intent behind his words was what passed for a declaration of love between them. He ended the call and pocketed the phone. Gladio handed him his helmet.

"Bike's faster," Gladio replied to the skeptical raised eyebrow. "We can leave our stuff here. Come back for it."

Ignis gave him a wistful smile, and lied to make Gladio feel better. "Yes. Of course."

Gladio almost asked him if he had regrets, too, but that'd be pointless. The past couldn't be undone. He made sure to kiss Iggy, though, long and hard, walking him backwards until his back hit the wall and pinning him there. He felt the moment Ignis' natural inclination to not be wrinkled or mussed was swept aside by desire: both Ignis' hands came up to grab fistfuls of Gladio's hair. Gladio held Ignis just as tightly. It was going to kill him to have to let them all go. But he was ready. He was born ready.

*

Gladio had strange dreams in the wake of pulling Noct down from the throne after the final battle and carrying him back to Hammerhead. He'd half expected to be yanked into sleep along with Noct, but he hadn't felt the least bit sleepy or dizzy or enervated. The ring had burned itself off Noct's finger, leaving a scar, and the ancestral weapons had all been plunged into Noct's heart one last time for old times' sake. If Ignis had been even a moment slower with the phoenix down and curatives, Noct might not have survived, given his blood loss and trauma.

But Ignis had spent his years preparing wisely, and Noct lived. Even if he didn't wake; not in Gladio's arms, not on the drive back in Prompto's truck, not in the medic's tent set up alongside the garage.

"Coma," the doctor at the Hammerhead outpost diagnosed, as if nothing could be done. Gladio was hard put not to punch something at the vast, stupid unfairness of it all.

Ignis steadfastly kept Noct clean and fed and did not, as far as Gladio could tell, eat or sleep himself for longer than brief naps, all through that first terrible night when no one quite trusted the sun would truly rise again. Ignis hadn't even washed up with them or bothered shoving his lank hair off his face; had only, like all of them (on the doctor's orders), stripped off his filthy uniform and put on clean loose training trousers and a t-shirt. Prompto held Noct's hand and chatted at him, pretty much nonstop, catching him up on ten years of news, and occasionally dropping his forehead to Noct's shoulder and asking him to please, please come back.

Gladio paced, inside and outside, and couldn't stop himself from snapping at people. Cindy promised him an ass-kicking when he was right in the head again, and he felt sick guilt knowing he deserved it. He wanted to shake Noct and demand that he get up and stop lazing around; he was pretty sure that would be ineffectual, and get him perma-banned from Hammerhead for sure.

He was outside when the sky began to lighten, and pretty soon he was standing in the middle of a crowd, everyone staring east with stony faces, hiding their fear and hope. Some people prayed; most stayed quiet, as the clouds went from gray to pink and gold, as brilliance spilled over the hills, the sun taking its rightful place with no fanfare, just as if it'd never been gone.

He heard an older man warning the children not to stare right at the sun, or they'd go blind.

"Is that what happened to Mr Ignis?" a little girl asked – one of Takka's kids, Gladio thought.

The reply was a confident _Yup_ which almost made Gladio smile. Noct would think that was funny, maybe. Noct... should be here, to see the sun and the kids who'd grown up without it. To live in the world he'd saved, to savor it and know that he'd done well, in the end.

When he turned around, Prompto was standing right at his side, camera in one hand and a plate of toast in the other. He looked so pretty standing there, face and hair golden with sunlight, that Gladio had to grab his chin and kiss him. When he pulled back, Prompto's cheeks had a rosy glow. Gladio couldn't wait for his freckles to start showing up again.

"Thought I'd take pictures for Noct," Prompto said, a bit breathless. "And then I remembered just how much he loved waking up at the crack of dawn. Not. Also, I got breakfast. Iggy's losing it, but at least he should eat, right?"

"We're all losing it," Gladio said. "I should go complain to the management."

"The managers are assholes," Prompto said. "If you're talking about the gods and crystals and all that, that _shit_ , that's been dicking people around for since forever."

Gladio gave him points for passion, if not for stringing together a coherent sentence.

"I'll go find out what's keeping His Majesty," Gladio promised. "Late to his own party. Figures."

"Hey," Prompto said, getting right in Gladio's space and glaring up at him. "You have to stay safe, okay? We can't lose _both_ of you."

Gladio took the plate of toast, concerned Prompto was going to fling it any second. "Piece of cake." He put his free arm around Prompto's shoulders, tucking him in close, and started walking him back to the tent. The sun made Prompto's hair glow. "I'd never do that to you. Either of you. Trust me?"

Prompto sighed and helped himself to a piece of toast. "If Iggy's cool with it, I'll manage. But you can't stop me from worrying."

Ignis, even after being forced to sit down and eat toast, was not thrilled, but Gladio could see his training getting the better of him despite his personal feelings. If there was any way to save Noct, the sacrifice was worth it, right? His own life. Gladio's. He knew Ignis yearned to do more, but... Kings and their Shields, that was how the gods had set things up.

He put a hand on Ignis' shoulder, rubbing against immovable tension. "Make me some of that herbal tea you hate, that always knocks me out cold."

Prompto stepped up. "We'll keep an eye on them while they're napping," he told Ignis, like he had everything all planned out. "Or you could grab some sleep, too."

Gladio grinned and gave Prompto a nod. Ignis scoffed, of course, but Gladio had to put his arm around his waist when he stood, to keep him from listing dangerously to the side. Dizziness wasn't an easy thing to deal with while blind. "Yeah, try the tea yourself, Iggy. Good stuff."

"It smells like boiled weeds," Ignis murmured. He let Gladio steer him toward the tent door. "Perhaps because that's what it _is_."

Breakfast preparations were underway at all the camps scattered around the rest area, and getting a saucepan full of boiling water was easy. Ignis threw the herb stuff in with disdain, wrinkling his nose at the smell. Gladio kissed him, too; he wasn't as pretty as Prompto was in the sun, what with all the grime, but a prickly Ignis was an adorable Ignis. Gladio promised himself that when this was all over he'd have Iris make Iggy something nice to wear. He deserved it. Maybe matching outfits for all of them.

"He's gonna be fine," Gladio said as they made their way back. "You worry too much."

"Being helpless has that effect on me," Ignis rejoined sharply. He was using his cane again, because he was too exhausted to pay attention to the myriad cues that he used to keep from walking into things. He hated it, but good luck persuading Ignis to go easy on himself. Maybe Noct could, but not Gladio.

"When I bring Noct out, we're both going to be woozy for a while. Store up some energy, you'll have to take charge."

Ignis turned his head to fix Gladio with such a piercing stare that it seemed impossible that he didn't see anything. "When this happened before... when Noct was a child, and again in Altissia... you were summoned to his dream-reality immediately upon danger to him." He held up his hand as if to forestall interruption. Gladio _still_ felt guilty, that Iggy might not have been driven to burn his own eyes out if Gladio and Prompto had been there with him to defend Noct in the real world. But that was a long time ago, and the past couldn't be changed anyway. "He hasn't summoned you this time."

"Yeah, and I'm going to kick his ass for that, don't worry." Ignis raised an eyebrow; they both knew worry was one of his default positions, the engine that drove his drive for competence. "I'd _know_ , okay. If he was gone. Trust me."

*

The taste of herbs was still on his tongue when he opened his eyes in Noct's dream. He was disoriented at first because there was nothing there, not even ground to stand on. He made the ground be there, though, focusing his annoyance into anger and _making_ the world have an up and a down, a way to go forward. He got his feet under him and started walking in that direction, that felt most like Noct. He didn't know if it was north or south, east or west; there was cold gray light, in this place without a sun, and that was more of an absence than darkness would have been. He pushed himself to keep going onward, exhausted by how much effort it took to concentrate. If he let his focus slip even for a second, he lost his surety of direction, and had to force his mind back into that intense, trance-like state.

He walked, and kept walking.

Occasionally he could sense that Ignis roused him, forcing him to eat and drink more tea. Time was passing outside, but Gladio didn't have the energy to spare to worry about that. He kept thinking about Noct, alone in this abandoned place. It was like a game had glitched, he thought, dropping the player character into a world that hadn't loaded. The familiar mountains and forests were gone, as well as the creatures and beings that made their homes there, both good and bad. He hoped Noct still had Carbuncle with him, at least.

He finally saw a smudge of something on the far horizon. As he neared, it resolved into a pillar, or a tower, bigger with every step he took. He was woken twice after sighting it, each time thinking he'd surely reach it soon. The distance he was traveling away from life was terrifying if he thought about it, so he didn't, just kept his mind focused on the next step, then the next. What rose before him was so impossible that his mind could barely comprehend it: a cage made of swords, dropped point-first into the ground in a huge ring of lethally sharp edges. He could just barely make out the form of the child who slept in the center, curled into a miserable ball.

Beyond the ring of swords was an ocean of absolute nothingness, lapping at the empty land, creeping forward with every wave and eroding it into void.

"Hey, Noct," Gladio said, knocking on the flat edge of a sword and making it ring. Blue eyes snapped open in fear, and Gladio winced. "It's just me. Sorry I took so long."

"I can't climb out," Noct said, and held out a hand toward Gladio which was scored with fine red cuts.

"Hold tight," Gladio told him. "Just 'cause I've been waiting my whole life to do this doesn't mean it's easy."

He flexed and pushed with his shoulders and back, and slowly the great wings of his tattoo unfurled to beat at the air. He rose, riding the wind, swooping around the towering swords but careful not to get too close. When he cleared the hilts, high above the empty plain and the consuming void, he hovered there for a moment. Far, far below Noct was waving.

He spiraled down, reveling in the freedom and speed, until he settled next to Noct, as light as a feather. Just as he'd suspected (dreaded), Noct looked to be around eight. He was still injured from the Marilith attack, his clothes tacky with blood.

"You're beautiful," Noct said, reaching out to brush across the tips of feathers longer than his arms. "It's not fair that I can't walk and you get to fly."

Plenty of time to think about that later. For now: "I'm going to fly us both home," Gladio promised. He didn't know if he was strong enough. Didn't matter. He couldn't fail. "Can you find Ignis and Prompto?"

Noct held up his hand as if checking for rain, and then snapped it shut. He was now holding three golden threads. One of them ended in Gladio's chest – wrapped around his heart, probably.

"Cool," he said, giving a nod of appreciation that made Noct grin. "I'm going to carry you, okay?"

"Are you allowed?" Noct asked. "Isn't this cheating?"

Gladio knelt and scooped Noct up in his arms. "Who's going to stop me?"

"Not a _who_ ," Noct said, but Gladio didn't understand until they were in flight over the vast emptiness, in the sunless, cloudless, starless sky. Moving began to feel like too much effort. Gladio was weary beyond imagining; sleep tempted him.

"You're already asleep," Noct said, pinching Gladio's arm hard. He was older now, and a lot heavier. "Trust me."

"Sleeping beauty," Gladio said. Attempting to make a joke was hard when his thoughts were so syrupy slow.

"You know it." Noct tugged on the threads in his hand, pulling golden strength from them and passing it to Gladio, to dispel the fog of hopelessness that had settled in him.

"That's - " he struggled to recall names "- Ignis'. And Prompto's. Stealing."

"They're sharing with us," Noct corrected him. "Learned about that in kindergarten."

"Iggy'll give you everything if you ask," Gladio reminded him. That terrified him into a burst of strength. The wind in his face was growing warmer. He didn't remember when it had gotten so cold. "Damn, you're heavy."

"I'd help, but I wasn't allowed to get tattoos, remember?"

"You wanted one of a fish." And he'd thrown an epic sulk when King Regis had refused. "Fat lot of good that'd be right now. Not like we can swim our way home."

"I could dream a river," Noct said, but he pressed himself tighter against Gladio's chest, probably remembering the rising waves of nothingness they were fleeing from. Whatever creatures swam in that void were nothing Gladio wanted to ever encounter. "Remember when this used to be so easy, before we grew up."

Then he'd loved dreaming, the freedom and joy of it, but – "I learned to be afraid," Gladio said, not scared now of the truth, not here at the edge of an unraveling world. Of not being a good enough Shield or son or brother; of his best still being unworthy; of the future.

"You, too, huh." Noct laughed, breathless and sad. "I'm scared now," he admitted. "I died, so what happens now?"

"The part of you that ripped away and got trapped here didn't die. Obviously. So now...we go home," Gladio said. "Easy as that. In the stories, everyone gets a happy life after their quest ends. We could try that."

"Gladio," Noct said, an odd edge to his voice. He slid a hand around to the back of Gladio's neck, and when Gladio looked down, Noct kissed him. He pulled back almost right away, looking abashed and defiant. "Okay. Just had to do that."

"I kiss better when I'm not trying to fall out of the sky," Gladio said. "Trust me." Noct's expression closed off, and Gladio didn't even need to be psychic to know he was getting on board the wrong-idea train. "You don't need to be jealous," he noted dryly. "It's just Prompto and Iggy, and _they're_ going to be pissed that I got to kiss you first. I mean – " and suddenly telling Noct this was more important than anything "– you know we love you, right? We didn't just hang out with you because you had a cool car and the best lures in Lucis."

Noct was still eyeing him with suspicion, so Gladio went for broke.

"Kiss me again."

This time he didn't let Noct retreat, doing everything he could to try and _make_ Noct believe him. They did take a few tumbles, spiraling down when he got distracted, or one time soaring almost straight up like a rocket, Noct laughing right against Gladio's mouth, both arms locked around his neck.

"I want – " Noct said, trailing little kisses down Gladio's neck and along his shoulder. "Here, can we just..." He caught up the golden lines leading them home and tossed them free, so they circled in the air, making a ball of light that grew like a beacon. In all this empty world, it was the only thing that looked like hope. "Can you take us there?"

Gladio tucked his wings in and dove, Noct clinging to him, laughing and laughing at their ridiculous speed. The light grew until Gladio half thought they were falling into the sun –

– and he saw the gate guardians before them, only this time they tried to tempt Noct, offering him first Prompto, then Ignis, then Gladio, unharmed, whole, and perfect. Noct laughed in their faces, dismissing them with an imperious wave of his hand –

– and Gladio woke to find himself in bed with Noct, who'd curled around him like he was cold, despite the familiar threadbare blanket tucked in around them.

Once his eyes were open he couldn't stop staring – at tangled black hair, rough stubble halfway to a beard, kissable lips – drawing Noct's attention. "It's nighttime," Noct said, keeping his voice quiet, his eyes sparkling like he knew a good secret. "Specs is passed out on the floor." He raised a hand, flicking his fingers vaguely. "Prompto went to go get some, I don't know, sandwiches? Maybe."

Gladio considered replying for a moment, but gave up after a moment when it proved a struggle, and decided to just wrap Noct up in his arms, burying his face in his hair.

"Don't think I need to be Shielded from sandwiches," Noct said, amused, but he didn't try to wriggle free. Good.

Gladio's King was alive; the sun had risen; and right now he didn't need or want anything more than that. He was content to doze.

"What's with octo-Gladio?" he heard Prompto ask, and Gladio cracked open one eye to glare in mute warning. "Hey, Gladio." Prompto set a tray down on the side table and reached over to pat Gladio on the head. "You done good, big guy!"

"What now?" Noct asked. He held out a hand, and Prompto handed him a ragged triangle of ham sandwich.

"Whatever we want," Prompto answered immediately. "Right?"

"Yeah," Gladio agreed. "Now shut up and let me sleep."


	3. Epilogue

"Are we there yet?" Noct asked for the hundredth time, and Prompto and Gladio said _shut up_ in sync.

"Or I'll kill you," Gladio added. "In your sleep. The perfect crime."

"As if you would ever," Ignis chided serenely. "But I do believe it's the next right."

In the backseat next to Gladio, Noct stretched, nearly smacking him in the face with a fist and then an elbow. "Yay," Noct said through a yawn. "You going to tell me what our secret destination is now?" And then, as Prompto made the turn (a bit too fast; Ignis' hand flashed out to brace against the dashboard), "Oh. Em. Gee. _Seriously?_ "

He twisted in his seat like he was going to climb right out the open window, and Gladio grabbed the back of his belt to haul him back.

"Stop the car. Royal order."

"All good things come to those who wait." Ignis was glowing with smug pleasure. But Gladio figured he'd earned it.

After the heartbreak of Gladin Quay falling to the daemons, Ignis had been unable to settle down. No matter how many people told him he hadn't been at fault and had nothing to atone for. His simple, flawed logic simply showed that he was still alive; their friends and comrades were not.

He'd ended up, long-haired and wild, at the chocobo outpost, where Wiz – out of a combination of mercy and mercenary interest – inveigled Ignis into chocobo rescue, rehab, and protection. After years of telling Iggy to just get a damn hobby already, Gladio couldn't have begrudged him any of the feathery comfort he found in the work. And Prompto's affection for Ignis had most likely tipped over to love while bonding together over birds.

After the dawn, Wiz had roped all his friends and relatives into the job of moving his overcrowded chocobos into outposts set up all over Lucis (and a couple down in Niflheim, Gladio heard; probably Prompto's fault). This outpost was just a bit east of Hammerhead, convenient to both the Crown City and the relocated government buildings on the mainland. Getting the city functional and habitable again would probably not happen in any of their lifetimes, but people had come back, building neat rows of houses along the shoreline, getting permits for salvage and supply runs, opening shops and schools. By this time next year, they hoped to have a train station set up in the former Imperial checkpoint. Some people had taken to calling this new settlement Noctville.

Gladio told Noct he thought the name was cute, but he'd felt a stupid burst of sentimental pride the first time he heard someone call the town that. He wanted Noct to be remembered as the King who brought back the light, their savior. Noct didn't want any glory, though; he said he was fine being a figurehead who cut ribbons at grand opening ceremonies and made a dull speech every year at winter solstice.

Having a city named in his honor was a good compromise, Gladio thought.

"Here we are," Prompto announced, pulling into a dusty parking lot. "Everyone out."

Noct wavered between choosing crutches or his wheelchair, but opted for speed in the end; Gladio was volunteered to push him over the rough ground. At the main gate, Ignis introduced them to the woman in charge, Wiz's daughter's sister-in-law, Marta. Gladio could tell that Noct and Prompto had a single thought they were sharing between them ( _chocobos!_ ), but the brief tour she led them on was pretty interesting. They walked around the barn and the saw the outdoor corrals and the medical center, while she talked about how they'd kept the birds alive and more-or-less untraumatized during the dark years and the difficulties they faced now in returning them to the wild.

"Though we hear about sightings of wild chocobos every now and then," she added. "Some of them survived all on their own."

"Cool," Prompto said. He sounded impressed, and a bit wistful. They'd never found their own chocobos again after returning from Niflheim; Gladio hoped they'd survived, somehow. "Bet they're fast runners."

"Do you have chocobos here we can ride?" Noct leaned forward, eyes glittering. Gladio rolled his eyes. He'd known that was coming. At least Noct had managed to hold off asking long enough to be decently polite.

"Oh sure," Marta said, grinning. "Or do you want see the new chicks first?" She pointed at the building straight ahead.

Prompto made a high-pitched noise of glee.

*

So, delayed by baby balls of fluff and several hundred pictures taken of each one, they didn't actually get to ride until after chicks and then lunch, but Gladio was fine with that. Once they were saddled up and out on the trail, they got in one good starting run, with wind in their hair and wild flapping leaps, and then old habits struck. Noct used his high perch to spot wild vegetables, shiny rocks, shiny things that weren't rocks, and toads, which Gladio ended up having to fetch for him, while Prompto had a desperate need to take even more pictures of all of them, now with this bit or scenery or posing on that rock. And Ignis was useless as a disciplinarian, too busy making googly eyes at his chocobo and giving her scritches and praise.

Time flew by while they meandered, but in the end, Gladio didn't mind. It wasn't like they had someplace they needed to be, and he hadn't laughed so hard in ages. Plus he'd forgotten about how riding used different muscles from walking; he was going to be sore, and he'd have to pin Noct down for a massage or else they'd all be dealing with King Complainer for the next few days. They returned to the center at a slow walk, already talking about dinner. They hadn't made it far enough north to find the shore and scout out potential fishing spots, but they had a whole week. There was time.

Gladio kept turning that thought over and over in his head. Thanks to the damn ring, he and Noct had survived the final battle a few years older than they'd entered it, but Ignis pointed out that they'd be eating a healthy and nutritionally-balanced diet for the remainder of their days, and they were both physically fit. _I see no reason for you not to live long and happy lives,_ he'd said, the one time Noct had broached the topic with him. _And apparently you both look quite dashing with gray hair._

 _Salt and pepper_ , Noct had corrected, and that had been the end of the discussion. Ignis had been ruthless in the kitchen for weeks afterward, revealing just how much he feared losing Noct again, and Noct had guiltily cleaned his plate of even the greenest leafy stuff in apology.

One of these days, Gladio was going to bring up the subject of what to _do_ with all the time they had. They'd learned to think from crisis to crisis, always with the knowledge that Noct would return and they'd all kick it in the final battle. After the dawn, while there weren't daemons, there were still plenty of problems that had to be dealt with. Noct was still healing, and so was Lucis. Supplying food and clean water and power to the people required logistics and careful planning. But as Noct kept pointing out, with increasing shortness of temper, they didn't _need_ to do everything by themselves – they literally couldn't, now that the population of Noctville had tripled and new residents arrived every day.

 _We have a government,_ Noct told Ignis like a mantra. _Let them govern. I know you hate meetings._

(Ignis refused to admit Noct was right, but Gladio bet when Noct finally disentangled himself and became a full-time figurehead, Ignis would slip out the back door with him.)

This holiday, in Gladio's opinion, was a great start. The city would run just fine in their absence; so maybe they could keep taking little jaunts away, a bit further and longer each time. Go and see Iris in Lestallum next, hit up the Vesperpool, see what was shaking in Caem. Maybe venture on to Tenebrae or beyond. Ignis occasionally brought up the idea of writing a history – a proper one, that would be useful to anyone in the future who thought Niflheim's technology would be cool to revive, or who decided to wake the gods.

He could do that from a camp chair. Just saying.

Marta had reserved a caravan for them at the far side of the camp, away from the other rentals. It backed up on a stony thicket and was shaded by two tall trees, and had a fenced-in front yard with an outdoors kitchen. Pretty perfect, Gladio thought, once he'd been inside and seen that instead of bunk beds there was just one bed across the width of the trailer.

"My request," Ignis said, voice low. "I might have played up Noct's mobility issues." He sounded a bit guilty, which suggested to Gladio that he'd let his own carnal thoughts get the best of him.

Gladio clapped a hand to the back of his shoulder, and Ignis shot him an irritated look as he braced himself to keep from getting knocked forward.

"Good one," he said. "Too bad you didn't ask for black silk sheets while you were at it."

Ignis huffed, turning on his heel and heading outside, probably to protest his innocence to Prompto, who wouldn't believe him, but in a nicer way than Gladio. He wouldn't dare ruin supper, though, so Gladio collected Noct and made him stretch and put up with a massage, and then they shared a quick shower. There were bars newly bolted to the walls and a stool – Iggy's suggestion again, probably – but Gladio hadn't gone to all the work of dragging Noct out of the beyond time and again to let him slip in the shower and break a hip, or worse. Even a figurehead King needed a Shield, he'd decided.

They ate outside, and Prompto pointed out all the stars that were visible through the tree branches, asking Ignis what constellations he thought they were. Ignis seemed amused by this game and gave decently thought-out answers, as if reciting from a book memorized long ago. When he was wrong, Noct invariably made a face, but at least now he knew that Prompto wasn't being cruel or insensitive, he'd just had ten years of listening to terrible blind jokes and watching Ignis rail against – and finally defeat (with some assistance) – an unfair universe.

Noct belonged with them, and always would, but he was still figuring out how exactly he fit. Gladio wasn't worried; they loved him, and had all the time in the world. To go fishing and ride some more, to go to bed and fold into the comfort of each others' arms, to walk away from the apocalypse and doomed destinies into a world of undreamed of possibilities.


End file.
